Mo
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Swan Song
Chapter 1
What is a life without a puzzle to solve or a goal to achieve?
Have you ever felt despair? Like nothing is going how you want it to? Like all hope has been lost? That's how I felt inside this jail cell. I was locked in and isolated from the world. The cell was despicable at best. I was chained to the back wall of the 5X5 foot cell. It was hard to believe that a room so small could be so messy. The toilet was right in the middle of the cell, all cold and damp, my bed just barely dangling from the wall, and sheets were spread out everywhere. Colorless pieces of bricks had crumbled from old age and were molding away on the floor. And in the midst of it all was me: a thin yet muscular man. My beard was falling to the ground, my jail clothes torn up and dirty from all of my labor. My blue eyes reflected back at the odd sight and my hair gray from various labors.
I've been in this cell for five years. I wasted a year in court just to get convicted four times and to be released thrice. During my appearance in court just after I was convicted, I used the fifth amendment of the US Constitution, which does not allow double jeopardy. However, I was in court against a corrupt government, and I was put in death row.
I hardly remember what reason I was put on death row. I had come to accept that I had been convicted for an assassination that I did not commit. The only thing I could not accept, however, was how I was convicted. They managed to find my finger prints and hair on the murder weapon. They brought in people who despised me and wanted me to burn in the Eternal Pits Of Hell. The officials asked for some kind of confession in which they would reply, "He told me he was going to kill the man because of a grudge and I didn't want to be involved so I left." It seemed that they would do anything to convict an innocent man.
The man's face was just a blur to me now. I had been invited to a party at a rich man's home. When I arrived, I looked around the room. I was standing in the entrance hall with other people whom I knew were members of the American Senate. Another glance at the room and I saw a giant spiraling staircase that loomed above us and a chandelier swooping above our heads. The walls were decorated with ornate paintings by famous artists like Van Gogh and Pablo Picasso. The owner of the mansion clearly made no attempt to conceal his wealth. I even remember how happy I was to be surrounded by so many important members of the Senate.
A guard trampled into the area dazing me a bit and interrupted me in thought. "Time for breakfast, Luke," bellowed the guard as he threw a muddy-brown bowl of water and a bread loaf at me. I could see his detest through his eyes. All I could do was take the meal and eat. What's the point? I am going to be executed in 2 days, I thought to myself. The sudden hatred and sorrow started to seep into me like a drizzle of rain. Here I was in jail wishing death to those who convicted me of something I did not do. Did that make me as bad as a killer who intends to kill someone but can't, or like an innocent who commits manslaughter?
I stayed awake until around 9 P.M. The jail guards had set a schedule for us. Every day, for as long as we were not sleeping, we would get our breakfasts at 8 A.M, then we would labor in farms and mines until noon to get our lunch. We would go back to the prison and sit around doing nothing all day except for our last meal of the day at supper.
It was a schedule that we followed every single day without a single change; but we let it lead us all the same.
Day 2
Change will only happen when someone stands up for what is right and just even when no one else other than you will start.
“You have a visitor,” shouted a guard at me. It was morning, the last day I had before my execution. I haven’t had a visitor in years. I could only wonder who would take a few moments to think about me, as the only people I knew were guards and prisoners. I waded to the cell door reluctantly, waiting for the guard to unbind me from my chains and give me one last second of freedom.
As I went through the building, I saw someone whom I had not seen in eight years. Standing in front of me was Sarah, my ex-wife. Sarah was a blonde with a great body and beautiful green eyes. I couldn’t help but grin. She was the last person I had expected to come. Eight years ago, we had gotten in a big fight. She threw a toaster at me and I left the house. After that she filed for a divorce and we haven’t talked since.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, so how have you been?” I asked her.
“Ever since I heard about your execution yesterday I’ve needed to talk to you. Look, you can’t die, not now,” she said as tears started running down her face.
“What do you mean, ‘not now’?”
“You have a son, Luke,”
“A…a…a son?” I trembled at the news. How could I have had a son and not known about it for so many years. If I was still married to Sarah and outside of the jail I may have been as happy as the next guy, but the under the circumstances it just made me more depressed.
“Yes. You’re son, he is seven years old now, he has your eyes, and he’s the best in his class, he was even able to teach himself algebra. He’s lived without a dad for his entire life and I think he’s staring to suffer for it. That’s not what I came to tell you though. Luke, I still love you, I don’t think I could bear the pain of your death. I’ve planned it all out, I’m going to hire someone to kidnap you from this dump and then we can run away together, you, me, and our son,” replied Sarah, with a little bit of desperation in her voice.
“Sarah, I’m glad that you still love me but you have to let go. I’m going to die tomorrow whether we like it or not,” I said as a bell rang signaling that Sarah’s time was up.
As I was getting up, Sarah took my hand and whispered into my ear, “I’m not going to let you die,” and then she kissed me. I cried a little inside, because I thought that it would be the last time I felt the warmth of Sarah’s lips brushing against mine. When Sarah had left, I realized that part of Sarah would die with me tomorrow at my execution.
Day 3, Day of Execution
You're lucky if you have just one person loving you
I woke up at 7 A.M, four hours before me execution would be held. I sat pondering about what Sarah had said for the first thirty minutes.
< Message edited by Mo -- 10/9/2009 17:54:45 >
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